


Mission Mistake

by marksdolphin



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Husbands, James Bond/OFC in the past, James and Q are getting married, M/M, Oops, Well not really, father bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marksdolphin/pseuds/marksdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was their big day. Bond had proposed three years ago now and they were finally able to get married. It was supposed to be the best day of their lives. If only Q had stayed in a hotel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Mistake

“We’ll be late!” Q insisted, struggling to do his tie correctly and undoing it, again, for the fifth time in the last five minutes. He was breathing heavily with stress as he checked his watch, finally giving up and asking Bond to do his tie for him. They had to be there in half an hour and it took almost thirty five minutes to get there last time they went, so Q was almost certain they wouldn’t make it.

“Calm down, we’ll get there.” Bond straightened Q’s collar for him after securing his tie, and then took a step back to admire the man. He had to smirk as he remembered the argument about what colour ties they should wear, which Bond had, of course, won. They went with blue. Navy blue, to be precise. Q had tried desperately to convince Bond that something like red or pink maybe would have been better, more… _wedding-y_. But Bond refused and Q eventually gave in and actually ended up quite liking the colour. Not that he would ever admit that.

“Not at this ra- oh and who _is_ that?” Q sighed loudly, annoyed by the person knocking on their front door. He straightened his hair with his fingers as his mind raced; everybody should already be there by now. Including them. So who the hell was at their door? 

“I’ll get it,” Bond quickly began to run down the stairs, hoping that when he was finished with whoever was at the door Q would be finished too and they could get going. He pulled the door open, preparing to tell the person that he really couldn’t talk or didn’t have time to do whatever it was they wanted or that today really wasn’t a good day to get into a fight. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do any of those things. He opened the door and was met by a face that he hadn’t expected to see ever again. And definitely not now. 

“We need to talk.” She held a child in her arms, looking nervously at Bond with slight curiosity for his suit. She decided not to ask; there were more important things going through her mind. Bond’s heart began to race. He checked behind him to ensure that Q was still upstairs and hadn’t come down without being heard somehow. He hadn’t. Bond took a step forward, closing his front door behind him to give them more privacy. 

“It’s been five months,” Bond still spoke in a hushed voice, too aware that Q could quite possibly still hear this conversation. He was annoyed. Very annoyed. Five months ago he had a sample of his blood taken to find out whether or not the child held in the woman’s arms was the result of a drunken night between himself and her, but he had been told that the results would take a week at most and when he didn’t hear anything, he had assumed he wasn’t the father. Q knew none of this. Bond knew that if he did, he would worry and he didn’t want that to happen when there was no reason for him to be worried. 

“I know, I just didn’t know how to tell you. Plus, you’re a hard man to track down,” she didn’t look at him, worried he was angry with her. She didn’t know him well enough to know how he would react to this news. “He’s yours.”

“You’re sure?” Bond really didn’t want to believe it, and part of him wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell her to go away and not to come back because he was about to marry the love of his life and he didn’t want a child with anybody who wasn’t Q.

“The results said there was about 96% accuracy in them, so yes, practically certain you’re the father,” and as she spoke the last three words, two things happened. Bond’s mind went blank and he couldn’t think anything. He couldn’t think about whether he was happy, sad, angry, heartbroken or glad. He couldn’t think about Q or the child or the mother. He thought nothing. And the second thing that happened was the front door opening. 

“James?” Q was stood fully dressed now, his tie fixed to his top button, his white shirt tucked into his navy trousers which fit him perfectly, stopping just at his ankle to lead onto his brown shoes that were slightly too pointy for his liking. His blazer, which matched his trousers exactly in colour, was held across his stomach by a single button which hid the bottom of his tie. He looked from his soon-to-be husband to the woman who had just said the words. 

“Q, please, go back inside, I’ll explain,” Bond tried desperately to try and convince Q to turn around and go back into their house and wait for him. It occurred to him then that they really were going to be late now. “Actually, let’s go. We’ll talk about this after.”

“What? Bond, I am not going anywhere with you until you explain. Now.” Q put his hands in his pockets and stood, unwilling to move. Bond put his fingers to his eyes and squeezed them shut tightly, trying to find some way of getting around this. Just until after the wedding. There was none.

“Who are you?” Suddenly the woman who Q had never seen before turned to question him, looking him up and down. She tried to work out why both men were wearing suits and where it could possibly be that they were late to.

“ _I_ am his fiancé, who are _you_?” Q looked at her suspiciously, having a good idea that she was clearly one of the many women Bond slept with before their relationship began.

“Fiancé? Well well well, Bond, you sure change your mind a lot!” She laughed turning back to the agent who clenched his jaw now in an attempt to keep his anger at a minimum. 

“Q get in the car. You didn’t want to be late, remember? You hate being late. We’re late, so please get in the car and let me explain,” Bond found himself practically begging, wanting anything but to have to call the day off because of this. Q did as he was asked.

“Fine. But I’m driving.” Q resisted the urge to push his way in between the two, instead making his way around them to find Bond’s car at the bottom of the drive. He got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

It took only seconds before Bond climbed into the passenger seat and Q immediately drove off. He stared straight ahead, grateful for the lack of traffic that filled the roads. Then he turned the corner.

“Q, it was straight ahead,” Bond tried to get some form of conversation out of the other man who fought back tears as he drove. The road was straight and silent. Eventually he pulled over and got out. Neither man knew where they were exactly, but they were supposed to be getting married now and everybody would be waiting for them.

“How old is the child?” It suddenly occurred to Q that he couldn’t be that angry with Bond were the child born years before their relationship, although he didn’t look old enough for that to have been the case. He had to know.

“Three,” Bond watched Q’s reaction as he spoke the word, noticing how hopeful his eyes had been when he asked that question and how that was snatched away with just a single syllable. His own heart broke. Q’s heart shattered.

“Three,” the Quartermaster repeated as though he couldn’t really think about it properly. He had been with Bond officially for five years now, or was he just getting the dates wrong? Of course he wasn’t, he knew every milestone in their relationship exactly, and he definitely knew when it started. It started five years ago, so how could Bond possibly have a three-year-old child? 

“I know what you’re thinking but you have to let me explain, it was one night, Q.” Bond tried to walk towards the other man in an attempt to comfort him, or himself. He wasn’t really sure which. Either way, Q didn’t let it happen. He turned his back and put his hands to his eyes in an attempt to push back tears. 

“How long have you known?” Q needed answers. He didn’t really want them, but he needed to know. He needed to know how he should feel towards Bond and he wanted to know how to deal with it. He loosened his tie, his breathing becoming more frantic as he thought about the entire situation more. He didn’t cry. Not yet. He refused to. 

“I just found out, we thought I might be about five months ago but nothing had happened about it so I assumed I wasn’t. I didn’t think you needed to know, Q,” Bond decided there and then to tell the truth; he knew Q too well to think he could get away with doing anything but that. More importantly, he loved Q too much to want to hurt him any more than he already had. 

“Five months?! Bond how could you not think I needed to know that there was a possibility you could be the father-“ He cut off and turned away. He didn’t want to say it. Somehow saying it would make it even more true and he didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want it to be true at all. He wanted it all to be a mistake. He wanted her to be lying or he wanted Bond to turn around and say he has never actually seen that woman before in his entire life and this is all just some big joke and she’s crazy. That wasn’t going to happen.

Bond rested his hand on Q’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but he pulled himself away and snapped his head towards Bond. “Don’t touch me, James.”

“C’mon Q, let’s just getting the wedd-” Bond as cut off when Q let out a small chuckle of disbelief and turned to look at him as though he was checking whether or not he was being serious. He was.

“How could you possibly think we can get married after this? I could have forgiven you, y’know? It wouldn’t have made it OK, but I could have forgiven you if you’d told me. You could have told me you slept with someone else and I would have forgiven you. I’d have understood, more than likely. You could have told me you thought you might have a child, I’d have dealt with it with you. We could have done it. But you wait until now. Until our wedding day, James. And you didn’t tell me. Had I not walked out of the house at that moment, would you have told me? Don’t lie to me.” A tear slipped from Q’s eye but he didn’t wipe it away. He didn’t care. He was too angry and heartbroken and upset to care about showing it. He wanted Bond to know how much he’d hurt him.

“Probably not immediately, with time maybe.”

“ _With time?_ ” Q couldn’t quite believe how Bond was acting, and he certainly couldn’t believe that he would have continued to keep this from him longer had he not left the house at that particular moment.

“I’m sorry, Q. I lo-”

“Don’t you dare say those words to me. How could you?” 

“Please.” Bond didn’t know what he was pleading for. Pleading for forgiveness was useless and Q was not going to change his mind about anything he’d said, so he was not pleading for the wedding to go on. Maybe he was just pleading for him to stop making him feel so guilty about it all, but he was guilty.

“I’ll text M, the guests will be wondering where we are,” Q got his phone out of his pocket and got back into the driver’s seat of the car. He struggled to formulate the text, his tears marking the screen and blurring his vision so he couldn’t properly see the screen. He decided to keep it simple: _Wedding’s off. Sorry. All go home._ He clicked send and rested his head back against the chair, closing his eyes as another tear rolled down his cheek and landed on the shoulder of his blazer. His navy blazer. Bond’s colour. Looking down at the rest of his suit, he noticed how his trousers now rested above his ankles with the strain of being sat down and his socks were visible. They were red. It was their compromise. 

_“Red socks won’t exactly look right with a navy blue suit,” Q had argued, still trying desperately to convince Bond that Red was a much better colour scheme than blue._  
_“Nobody will see them. Nobody other than me,” Bond had smirked, wrapping his hands around his Quartermaster’s waist and pulling him closer to him._  
_“Oh yeah? Can I wear red boxers too, then?” Q grinned, locking eyes with the agent._

Q hit the steering wheel in anger, seeing Bond out of the corner of his eye as he continued to stand on the side of the road. He was on the phone now, probably to M or some other guest, explaining the situation. Q’s heart raced and a sudden feeling of certainty washed over him. He knew what he wanted and that was to be anywhere but near to Bond. He turned they keys, put the car into gear, and drove. 

It was Bond’s car, and Bond was left in the middle of nowhere, but those weren’t the things on Q’s mind as he continued to drive down the road, watching in the mirror until Bond was finally out of sight. Only then did he let himself think. And only then did he pull over to allow himself to completely break down.

**Author's Note:**

> From tumblr prompt: Maybe James and Q are happy living their lives together for a few years till a woman shows up with a child and says its James' kid. The child is 3 yrs old when he and Q have been together 5. blood tests confirm its his. (sent by anon)


End file.
